David Ayer’s departure from the new Scarface remake has reminded me of a thought that occured several months ago. I don’t want to see Diego Luna as the new Tony Montana, and I’m not saying this to be pricky or sound like an asshole. Luna is just not gangsta. Going back to Y Tu Mama Tambien he’s always been the mild-mannered amiable guy. He was steady and satisfying in Rogue One, but he doesn’t have that hungry animal quality that Paul Muni and Al Pacino had in their respective versions. What Latin actor would I prefer to see in the role? Gael Garcia Bernal, whose best role was in Pablo Larrain‘s No and who really lit the furnace in Alejandro G. Inarritu‘s amores perros. The new film, written by Jon Herman and the Coen brothers, will be set in Los Angeles. The producers are Dylan Clark, Scott Stuber and Martin Bregman.

In the category of Outstanding Variety Talk Series, Jimmy Fallon got stiffed this morning. Why did the TV Academy decide to nominate Stephen Colbert, John Oliver, Jimmy Kimmel, Samantha Bee, James Corden and Bill Maher but not Fallon? I don’t know, hard to say — opinions?

Hooray for Alec Baldwin‘s Donald Trump inhabitings on Saturday Night Live, which won him a nomination as Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Comedy Series; ditto Melissa McCarthy‘s Outstanding Guest Actress nomination for her SNL portrayals of Sean Spicer.

Joe Wright‘s Darkest Hour (Focus Features, 11.22) will obviously have to stand on its own two feet. And it may well do that. Wright is a first-rate helmer. And how can Gary Oldman not come out of the coming award season with flying colors? Chamberlain appeases Germany, Britain takes a pounding, Churchill rallies his countrymen, etc. Dunkirk‘s brother-in-arms. Oldman’s delivery of the “we shall fight them on the beaches” speech is more spirited — peppier, more actorish — than Churchill’s. The only thing that scares me is Ben Mendelsohn playing King George VI. Seven years ago Colin Firth was the late monarch’s emissary here on earth. Somewhere in heaven George VI is sulking.

In a just-released Awards Daily poll, over 100 newspaper, magazine, and online film critics and movie writers have named Jordan Peele‘s Get Out as their favorite film of 2017. What a lazy, submissive, grass-munching herd.

The lead of Jordan Ruimy’s article about the findings reads, “There was a time when film critics used to be a very unpredictable lot”…no longer! The runners-up were Michael Showalter’s The Big Sick, Edgar Wright’s Baby Driver and James Mangold’s Logan. A portion of those polled mentioned Cannes and Sundance films that will like emerge as the ’17 award season’s most critically acclaimed films. The most frequently mentioned were Luca Guadagnino’s Call Me by Your Name, Sean Baker’s The Florida Project, the Safdie Brothers’ Good Time, Dee Rees’ Mudbound and Kogonada’s Columbus.

For the third time, Hollywood Elsewhere’s own Best of ’17 list: (1) Luca Guadagnino‘s Call Me By Your Name, (2) Michael Showalter’s The Big Sick, (3) Matt Reeves‘ War For The Planet of the Apes, (4) Andrey Zvyagintsev‘s Loveless, (5) Cristian Mungiu‘s Graduation, (6) Ruben Ostlund‘s The Square, (7) David Lowery’s A Ghost Story, (8) Olivier Assayas‘ Personal Shopper (even though I fundamentally regard this Paris-based ghost story as last year’s news as it premiered nearly 14 months ago at the ’16 Cannes Film Festival) and (9) Jordan Peele‘s Get Out.

Can you sense the droll, dryly perverse tone of Ruben Ostlund‘s The Square (Magnolia, 10.27) from this trailer, even though the subtitles are in Swedish? Yo, Magnolia — where’s the English-subtitled version?

Two Telluride festival passes: $1560 ($780 x 2). 4 day, 8.31 thru 9.4 condo rental (Airbnb) : $890. 2 RT Southwest plane tix, Burbank to Albuquerque: around $400. Dollar rental car for 4 days: $278. Gas: $65 or $70. Hotel in Bloomfield, NM (between Albuquerque and Telluride): $140. Meals and drinks: God knows. Grand total sans groceries, cafe tabs: $3338 for four days of excitement and intrigue.

Last night Tatyana and I walked into in a downmarket Hollywood Blvd. bar, east of Cherokee. She ordered an Adios Motherfucker — 1/2 oz. vodka, 1/2 oz. rum, 1/2 oz. tequila, 1/2 oz. gin, 1/2 oz. blue curacao liqueur, 2 oz. sweet and sour mix, 2 oz soda (7-up, Sprite). I had a Diet Coke.

“While the foundation of Telluride has rightfully been a celebration of film, the Festival itself is more about the coming together of the lovers of film. From creators to admirers, it is about the people who fill and then transform the place. The collegial atmosphere, the ‘realness’ and accessibility of the people, their joy and warmth…those are the things that enchant Telluride — and what I hoped to express in the poster.” — Lance Rutter, designer of the poster for 44th Telluride Film Festival.

Sometime this fall or at least by Christmas I want a pee-pee tape…please. I realize I’m repeating myself.

Good parents always show love and support for their children in any way they can, including whatever leanings the kids may have in terms of sexuality or gender identity. There’s no disputing that many if not most gay kids know who they are at a relatively early age, and if they’re lucky enough to have parents who are behind them when this realization occurs, great. But how early is too early? When I was a young teenager sexuality was barely acknowledged by my parents, but these days parents seem to be more engaged at earlier stages.

Four years ago Matt and Lori Duron began talking to the media about how supportive they were of their son C.J. Duron, who was then six years old and leaning in a gay (“gender creative”) direction. They’ve continued to speak out, make appearances and so on. For some time Lori’s been writing a blog about raising C.J. called raisingmyrainbow. All to the good.

Except in the matter of conservative, Trump-supporting actor James Woods, who on 7.9 tweeted the following to Matt and Lori: “This is sweet. Wait until this poor kid grows up, realizes what you’ve done, and stuffs both of you dismembered into a freezer in the garage.”

Neil Patrick Harris responded yesterday (7.11) by calling Woods’ remark “utterly ignorant and classless…I’m friends with this family…you know not of what you speak, and should be ashamed of yourself.”

The Manson Family murders movie that Quentin Tarantino is reportedly starting to assemble will be more or less fact-based, according to The Hollywood Reporter‘s Borys Kit. Tarantino has reportedly approached Brad Pitt, Jennifer Lawrence to presumably play significant roles, and Margot Robbie to play Manson murder victim Sharon Tate.

The untitled project will presumably shoot in ’18 for a release the following year. Harvey and Bob Weinstein are producing.

Tarantino-Pitt-Lawrence triptych stolen from a rival website.

I’m saying “more or less” because other reports have mentioned Samuel L. Jackson as a possible costar. (Kit’s story didn’t only mentioned Pitt and Lawrence.) I’m not aware of any black dudes whom Manson was involved with during the family’s heyday in ’68 and ’69 (Manson was reportedly fascinated with the idea of triggering a violent black revolution a la Helter Skelter), or any black detectives or prosecutors who got into the Tate-La Bianca murder cases as they developed.

And who would Pitt play exactly? My first thought was convicted Manson Family murderer Tex Watson, but Watson was 24 when the murders happened and Pitt will turn 54 next December so how would that work?

I agree that Jeremy Davies would make a perfect Charles Manson. All he has to do is use a sharper, raspier voice.

Is there anyone who doesn’t suspect that Karina Longworth’s “You Must Remember This” podcasts on the Manson saga weren’t at least partially responsible for kindling Tarantino’s interest?

For what it’s worth I agree 100% with Vanity Fair‘s Joanna Robinson that Tarantino should forget about making a feature and go instead for a six- or eight-episode HBO miniseries. Or at the very least that he should expand upon the feature after the initial release with an HBO miniseries version. The Manson murder saga is a long, gnarly, sprawling thing with all kinds of crazy tangents and sub-plots and side views. A decent movie version would have to be Zodiac-sized, at the very least, or at least three hours.

It’s worth recalling that producer Don Murphy, who became known as Tarantino’s nemesis when they got into a notorious fist fight at Ago in October 1997, attempted to launch a film version of Ed Sander‘s The Family 15 or 16 years ago, with Vincent Gallo approached to play Manson.

The Hollywood Reporter‘s Scott Feinberg is reporting that the replacement for Academy president Cheryl Boone Isaacs will be chosen on Tuesday August 8th, and that the three top candidiates are Oscar-nominated actress Laura Dern, Oscar-nominated documentary filmmaker Rory Kennedy and casting director David Rubin. Hollywood Elsewhere is hereby announcing its support for Kennedy, mainly because of my admiration and respect for two docs that she directed and produced, Ethel and Last Days in Vietnam, and because she’s smart, likable and gracious. At the same time I suspect that Dern will probably win because she’s been an industry presence since the mid ’80s or certainly since Wild At Heart (’90), and those who don’t know her well certainly know her mom and dad, Diane Ladd and Bruce Dern. Rubin hasn’t a chance against these two — he has no pizazz and doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page…please!

No hyperbole here. I’m going to play it cool and calm. Matt Reeves‘ War For The Planet of The Apes is a grounded, eye-filling super-epic, but I’m not going to get carried away. So I won’t be calling it a delivery device for some magical movie potion or, you know, a blessed and majestic achievement for the ages or the answer to any of your personal prayers. Well, maybe one: “Oh Lord, please save us from the scourge of summer movies by giving us a great film — primal, painterly, deeply rooted, character-driven, beautifully fused — that just happens to have a mid-July release date.”

Yes, it’s a franchise flick (further installments are probably inevitable) but Reeves, director of the second and third installment in the 21st Century apes trilogy, has enhanced the brand above and beyond. War is part popcorn and part arthouse, and graced with exquisite chops start to finish. It’s a kind of wintry Apocalypse Now in simian…wait, I said no hyperbole.

But it is that, dammit. A dystopian thing, an emotional tour de force, a band-of-brothers film, a ferociously realistic war movie, and — I love this — a kind of Great Escape meets Escape From Alcatraz in a snow-covered (you could almost say enchanted) forest. The key terms are “measured just so”, “exquisitely composed” and “the whole greater than the sum of the parts.”

War traverses the realms of smart summer tentpole, masterful art-film composition and epic storytelling at a high emotional pitch. If the snoots and the slovenlies are equally satisfied you know a film is up to something extra.

So yes, War For The Planet of the Apes is an answered prayer of sorts, except God had little to do with it. Okay, maybe in the usual sense (i.e., God as co-pilot or the vague architect of destiny), but it was Reeves who Pattoned this thing…who rolled up his sleeves, came to grips, demanded certain standards, co-wrote the War script with Mark Bomback, led his troops into the forested northwest and made a couple of thousand creative decisions over three and a half years.

Rupert Wyatt launched the apes trilogy in 2011, but Reeves has carried the weight since late ’12 and has now brought it home.

It would sound obsequious to call him the simian maestro, but we can at least say that Reeves is the Peter Jackson of this exquisitely hairy CG realm. The Academy waited for Jackson’s Lord of the Rings: Return of The King before handing him a Best Director Oscar, even with the layered and laborious Return (be honest) not being all that great. But War is a staggering piece of work — ask any big-league critic. Surely a similar consideration is due to Reeves for concluding an epic saga on such a grand and Spartacus-like note.